


Breathe

by Cosmignon



Category: Dice funk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmignon/pseuds/Cosmignon
Summary: An elven woman from a monastery near the coastline meets a teenage human who is not easily calmed, and honestly could you blame him?





	1. The Hurricane

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._  
  
Sheithayne sat alone in a dark corner of the monastery. She had begun to clear her mind of the day’s activities, replacing them through meditation and enjoying the calming darkness of the room lit only by the rays of the setting sun. How much time had passed or would continue to pass didn’t concern her. She nearly entered into a trance, when she just barely heard the sound of frantic footsteps.   
  
Sheithayne snapped back to reality, and the echoes of footsteps intensified as they drew towards her. She rose to her feet in time to see a winded monk stop in her tracks at the doorway. She held her chest, and tried to catch her breath while speaking to the elf.  
  
“Master Shei… Sheithayne! A hurricane…!” she coughed “Flint spotted a hurricane, just now!” Sheithayne stepped toward the monk with a frown and placed a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to straighten her stance in the face of this news.  
  
“Is he sure that’s what he saw?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“And does he know if this will reach the monastery?”   
  
“I don’t know, he told me just now… should I-?“  
  
“For now, just make sure everyone knows to take cover. And if anything comes our way, just remember, stay calm.”   
The girl nodded nervously at Sheithayne, turned, and ran off without another word.  
  
Sheithayne had held her tongue, resisted an urge to question the girl any further. It was highly unusual for any of the monks to lie to each other about such things, and the girl showed no signs of anything but grave seriousness. But still, Sheithayne doubted.  _A hurricane?_  Aside from the flooding, there had never been much peculiarity concerning the weather in the Tiger Mountains. During the decades she’d spent at the monastery, she was certain hurricanes weren’t able to form in this area. She took a hold of her quarterstaff, and departed the room to investigate this further.  
  
It was all too easy to see the hard evidence once she reached a coast facing window. A hurricane raged on in the distance. The sky was tinged in the dark greys, and the faint sound of howling wind could be detected. Sheithayne felt a shiver run down her spine, felt the familiar ache of fear rise in the back of her mind. She had taken great pains in her training to repress such feelings, so for now they were only mere echoes of the real thing. But for the elven monk that was enough for her to freeze in place, if only for a minute or so.   
  
For that was about as long as it took for the unusual weather phenomenon to vanish before her eyes. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. The hurricane was no more.   
  
Without thinking, she jumped out of the open window onto the ground outside of the monastery. Her curiosity about many things had faded over the years, but she couldn’t deny herself further investigation of this. With a quick glance back at the window she assured herself that the other monks would continue on with their night without much worrying about her.   
  
She headed towards the spot where a whirlwind of destruction had just reigned a few moments ago. The dim light of the sunset streaked through the inexplicably clear sky, and gently lit the narrow, rocky road that connected the monastery to the scarce settlements that did - and used to - mark the mountain side. Yet neither the fading light nor the terrain proved a problem for the elf. She moved briskly, and as she drew near her destination a haunting scene stretched out before her.  
  
The hurricane had, in its short lifespan, laid waste to what must have been a rather expensive home. Even the ruins of mansion were far more luxurious than anything to be found at the monastery. She slowed her pace to take a better look, clutching the quarterstaff as she kept herself alert of her surroundings. In the shadows of these ruins laid the silhouettes of what could only be corpses. Three, perhaps four people lay cast about like tattered rag dolls. They were clearly torn apart in a ghastly fashion, a grim reminder of how fragile everyone is in the end. The monastery would have never stood a chance.   
  
Sheithayne quietly thanked some unknown force for extinguishing the hurricane so quickly.   
  
For several minutes she paced about the area looking for anything significant, and heard a wolf cry into the twilight. It seemed as though the commotion of gale winds and rubble had attracted the local wildlife. They were most certainly agitated. She was not ready for a fight with mere animals, but she still kept her guard up as she continued her survey. Yet regardless of all these peculiarities there didn’t appear to be any signs that could explain the freak hurricane. Perhaps it would be better not to know. Somewhat disappointed, Sheithayne turned to take her leave. She could explain to the other monks they had nothing to worry about concerning this place, as odd at it was.   
  
Then, another noise caught her ear, and she froze. A high pitched whine crossed from one corner of the ruins to where she stood. Wolves didn’t make that noise. Someone must have survived.   
  
She turned back, heading in the first direction she could pin the source of the noise to. She didn’t have anything to heal wounds on her person, but she decided that she could retrieve medicine from the monastery after the impromptu search and rescue. She had to see the damage first.   
  
A large, collapsed wall divided her from this person, and she hung around one corner to spot them. There she saw a human standing rigidly, arms to his sides and eyes staring directly through the wall. The poor boy couldn’t have been older than 20. At this distance, his ragged panting could be heard quite clearly between the pained whines. There was bright blood dripping down his arm, and on his shoulder - a bite mark. The wolves had attacked him. His plain clothes were torn badly, with the holes in the fabric revealing multiple bruises and scrapes and scratches he suffered through the recent ordeal.   
  
In spite of his poor condition, he continued to stare and stand, making no efforts to move himself, leave the area, seek help. He didn’t even notice Sheithayne as she rounded the wall and began moving toward him. These events could not be taken lightly by a race that had to comprehend so much in their short lives, and Sheithayne knew that well. The elf steadied herself once she was in arm’s length of the boy, and spoke softly.  
  
“Hello, young man?” He violently screamed in response - Sheithayne took a step back as his eyes darted toward her, his panting intensified. He turned quickly, and ran off.   
  
He only made it a short distance before tripping over rubble, falling on his side with a harsh thud.   
  
Sheithayne moved toward him again, trying her best not to startle him again. She’d seen many people panic in ways like this before. She’d been one of them. It was best not to further agitate someone in that state, if possible. She spoke again, maintaining a calm tone that she hoped would let the boy know she meant no harm.   
  
“I’m sorry I frightened you. Can you speak?” He remained crumpled on the ground, one arm clutching tightly on his bite mark as he gave no response. Sheithayne remained silent, staring over the boy for a few seconds while considering whether she should let him wait there while she retrieved aid from the monastery. Just as she had come to a decision, the boy finally spoke between his pained noises.  
  
“Go…away…”  
  
“I shouldn’t leave you here. You’re hurt, and you need help.”  
  
He shook his head firmly, clutching his arm even tighter. “No…no. No, I’m bad, it’s bad, I’m bad, bad, bad” his voice shook as he curled into himself.   
  
Sheithayne moved a step closer, “That doesn’t matter right now. Your arm looks terrible, you might die.”  
  
He broke into sobs. It was a pitiful sight, to see someone so young and afraid of death. Sheithayne knew too well that she should accept death as inevitable, so it was humbling to remember that not everyone had come to that revelation yet, especially the short lived humans who so frequently passed in and out through the material plane. She crouched down, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, and quickly retracting it when he flinched away.   
  
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must have lost today. But you can still survive, if you’re willing to let me help you. There’s a monastery I can bring you to, it’s not too far from here.”   
  
For a couple minutes, there was silence save for the sound of crying and animals in the distance. Then the boy began to slowly right himself into a sitting position, still in pain, still crying. He faced away from Sheithayne as he spoke again.  
  
“I’m can’t… It’s my fault…It’s all my fault…”   
  
“What do you mean by that?”  
  
“This,” he limply gestured his good arm towards the ruins. He didn’t explain himself further, but simply sat hunched over himself while shaking.   
  
_Could he have caused the hurricane?_   Sheithayne scoffed at herself, thinking better of the thought. He was so young, and the magic needed for that was well beyond the scope of most people in Lorelei, let alone the Tiger Mountains. He could’ve have possibly…  
  
Sheithayne shifted her focus, and realized that she wouldn’t get any further helping the boy at this rate. He needed something help soothe his nerves, distract from the pain for a short while. She assessed his injuries from an eye’s glance; he was bleeding and dirty, but luckily for him, nothing seemed to be terribly out of place, or mangled, or torn apart. He should probably survive if she thought of something quickly. She looked down at her quarterstaff, and its striking blue color gave her an idea.   
  
She stood up, walked around, and sat down to face the boy directly. He didn’t look up at her, his shoulders tensed as they shook. He only acknowledged her presence once more when she handed the quarterstaff to him like a present.   
  
“If I cannot help, maybe you could hold onto this instead, and keep your eyes on it for me.” He sat still, confused for a few moments before he hesitantly reached his arm out to grab the quarterstaff, and fidgeted with the weight and feel of it in his hand. The sun had just barely left the sky for the day, but in the twilight the moon granted enough light for it to reflect off of the quarterstaff, displaying its calming properties. Its potential could only be fully utilized during a focused meditation session, but in this situation it still proved useful.   
  
Though the boy was still sobbing, he sat entranced by the confusing object offered to him, and Sheithayne got her first good look at his face. More injuries were evident, though mostly minor scrapes and bruises. His hair was disheveled beyond belief, obviously blown around by the hurricane and refusing to settle afterwards. Overall, a mess.   
  
“Ok. Now, do you think you could breathe in, please?”  
He complied with her second request, more readily than the first.  
“And breathe out.”  
__  
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.  
  
Tears still traced across his face, but he appeared to be calming down. He wasn’t  _quite_ calm yet, Sheithayne could see, but it had to be enough for the time being.  
  
“Thank you. I can still offer my help, if you follow me to the monastery. Will you do that?”  
Without acknowledging Sheithayne directly, the boy slowly began getting up to his feet, using the quarterstaff to balance himself while letting his injured arm fall to his side at its own accord. He looked up at her with a look of pain etched along his face, but he seemed to be steady enough on his feet to reach the monastery with the quarterstaff by his side.   
  
“…It’s late… where do we go…?”  
  
“Up this path. I can see it, so you can follow me.”   
  
With her guidance, they began walking towards the monastery along the path she had taken earlier. The boy hung his head low, still heaving a sob every so often as he followed her lead. He nearly stumbled once or twice, but he managed to keep his balance for a fair amount of time. However, it eventually became evident that the boy might be getting too tired to continue on foot. Sheithayne expected protest when she offered to carry him the rest of the way, yet he simply said nothing and limply leaned against the quarterstaff in defeat. They traveled much faster afterwards, the boy allowed to rest a short while as Sheithayne carried him in her arms.   
  
They reached the monastery as the moon hung behind them in the sky. Sheithayne passed by a few monks who had delayed going to bed to look for her. She did not respond to their questions about where she had been or who this human was with her, and she heard them behind her quietly deciding to return to their sleeping quarters for the night.  
  
She found a clean place to put the boy down, a room where the medicinal supplies were kept, and asked him if he could stay awake for a while longer while she did a more thorough examination. He nodded. Although he winced at the pain in his arm when Sheithayne touched it, he seemed willing to sit still for the most part.   
  
His clothes were ruined, so she needed to address that first. She disposed of the shirt and shoes to little protest, but allowed him to keep the rest of his clothes until she could find something suitable for him to wear later. Once she dealt with that, and couldn’t find any signs that something more urgent was left unseen, she set to work on fixing up the poor human as best she could.  
She began by cleaning the bite mark on his arm, which at this point surprised her as being the only substantial injury he had on his body. Considering the circumstances, his physical condition was a miracle.   
  
His eyes darted around the room as Sheithayne continued to work on his injuries. The glances were less confused more than they were curious as he surveyed the surroundings. He didn’t find much to keep his attention, and eventually locked his eyes on the quarterstaff again, watching it twinkle in the warm light of a candle flame Sheithayne had lit. He wasn’t crying anymore, though his breathing still fluttered.   
  
Sheithayne finished addressing her major concerns, making sure things were cleaned and wrapped in bandages where necessary. She hoped that she had been quick enough to take care of any lingering problems, though only time could tell. A small sigh escaped as the tension of the situation dampened slightly. She then sat down on the stone floor in front of the boy, and waved her hand to catch his attention.  
  
“If you would be able to answer me, what is your name? I’m Sheithayne.”  
The boy turned his eyes away.  
  
“…I’m Drop Goodwood.”   
  
She tossed the name around in her head. A surname was certainly unusual in Lorelei, but for now that was unimportant.  
  
“Well Drop, I want you to sit here while I find something for you to wear, OK?” No response, but he didn’t look like he was going to be moving anywhere anytime soon. Sheithayne hurried to find some spare clothes, and returned to the room to find that he had stayed in place. In fact, from a distance it would have appeared as though he wasn’t moving at all, aside from his breathing.   
  
“Here, you can wear this for now. There’s a room I'll show you where you can wash off more, and then I want you to stay here for the night.” As she handed the clothes to Drop, he looked up at her with an expression that she couldn’t gauge as either confusion or fear.  
  
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”   
  
“Don’t worry Drop, this place is safe for you to-“   
  
“It’s not safe for you!” His voice cracked as he clutched the quarterstaff closer to his chest. He looked surprised at himself, and then ashamed as he insisted, “It’s not safe here, nowhere is I… I’m bad I’m…You saw… you saw the mansion, the hurricane, it was all ruined and it’s my fault… This always happens,” Tears pricked his eyes again.  
  
“It’s hard to believe that you could have-“  
  
“I did! I did it, it was my fault! It’s  _always_ my fault!” His body and voice trembled,  
“Why are you even helping me? You’ve got to stop now, or you’ll die!”   
  
Sheithayne knelt down in front of the panicked boy. “Drop-?”   
  
“I don’t want anyone else to die!”   
  
Sheithayne took a deep breathe. Take things slowly.  
  
“Drop, could you to breathe for me again, please-”  
  
“No!” Drop swung the quarterstaff without warning.  _Thwack_.   
  
Sheithayne gripped the quarterstaff tightly in her hand. It was only an inch from her face as she held it between the two of them. The boy lacked any grace, and now his good arm hung at an uncomfortable angle to keep his grip as well. The air was still, and the melting candle flickered as they remained frozen in space, staring at each other.   
  
“I…” He let out more sobs. Sheithayne started to worry that Drop might get dehydrated at this rate. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t, I don’t want to, I-“  
  
“I can see you didn’t mean to,” Sheithayne spoke softly once more, and released her grip of the quarterstaff to let Drop relax his arm as he pulled it back to his chest. She hoped he hadn’t hurt himself any more with that stunt. “I think you should take some time to rest before you try to talk about what happened. Is that OK with you?”   
Drop nodded, and tried to take a few shaky breaths to calm himself down. Instead, he coughed, and couldn’t stop his coughing fit until Sheithayne brought him water. They sat in silence for several minutes afterwards, giving Drop time to cry until he couldn’t anymore. When he was through, he leaned on his side and scrunched up the spare clothes to make them into a makeshift pillow.  
  
“Oh - Drop, I could find you a bed.” But half way through her words he passed out cold on the floor. His face and body finally relaxed, and his arm laid on top of the quarterstaff he had clung to before. She hesitated to carry Drop in case that might wake him, so she made due with finding a blanket to drape over his body. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it was a small comfort that wouldn’t give him any more reasons to cry.  
She sat herself several feet away from Drop, and began preparing herself once again to enter a trance so that she might get some rest as well.  
  
A freak hurricane. A ruined mansion. Wolves. And a desperate, frightened young human. The evening had taken such a strange turn that Sheithayne was unsure if she could even continue looking for answers to all of her questions at this point. What mattered at the moment was that she had helped someone survive, at least for now, and that was enough to satisfy her for the night. 


	2. The Monastery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drop doesn't want to hurt anyone, Sheithayne learns why.

Drop felt heavy as he blinked drearily in the glint of sunlight hitting his eyes. Everything ached.  _Where was he?_  He wondered for several seconds, and once he remembered he felt like it would be a good idea to never get up again for the rest of his life.   
  
It happened again, of course it did. He’d killed more people. They’d been so nice too, letting him live close by when he’d been endangering their lives for every minute he stayed. Maybe if he had done something different, or tried a little harder, or maybe… no. There was no avoiding it now. He was terrible.   
  
He couldn’t get back to sleep, and so his eyes slowly adjusted to the sight of the room. It was small, built entirely from stone and barely had anything inside it aside from a few storage crates, and a candle holder with the remains of melted wax inside. Nobody was around that he could see, but a few voices faintly echoed from beyond the empty doorway.  
  
 _“… really that bad?”  
  
“Yes, though luckily he wasn’t as hurt as you’d expect…”_  
  
He recognized that second voice… he forgot her name. That wasn’t important though. As much as he didn’t want to move, he also didn’t want to stay here any longer. He couldn’t take anymore death so soon. His arms stung as they stretched out on the stone floor, and he felt how his hand was resting on the blue staff given to him the night before. He should give this back before he left.  
  
He clutched the staff tightly to give himself support as he dragged his body off the floor. He fell over himself, unable to suppress a cry of pain as he landed on his side. The woman called out his name, and the sound of her footsteps hurried towards the room. Drop tried to pick himself up again, and as he struggled the strange woman appeared at the doorway.   
  
“Drop! Do you need help getting up?”   
  
“No.” He gasped through his teeth as he felt a stabbing pain rush through his shoulder, but he eventually managed to stand on his feet. Once he was steady, he quickly extended the staff out in front of the woman. “Have this back.”   
  
She gently took it from his hand, and he swung his arm back to his side.   
  
“Thank you. I-“   
  
Drop swept past the woman before she could say anymore, and passed through the doorway towards the first direction his legs could carry him. Where he would go next was anyone’s guess, as long as it wasn’t here. He heard the woman call for him, but he focused on his surroundings instead. He saw torch holders with no fire burning on them, and stone walls and floors that echoed beneath his feet. This entire building was so barren… it was a monastery if he remembered right.  _Who cared?_  
  
He burst through the exit, and found himself outside among several people in the same kind of clothes the woman wore. They stared at him as he rushed by, and he heard the woman call again. He headed toward the path he had walked along the previous night, and ignored everything else for as long as possible. However, the aching pains throughout his own body soon forced him to stop. He needed to keep going. He couldn’t. His lungs burnt as he caught his breath.   
  
The woman calmly walked as she caught up with him, and she spoke in a tone he wasn’t sure what to think of.  
  
“Drop, what are you trying to do?”  
  
“Get out of here. If I leave now, maybe no one here will…” the word caught in his throat. The woman gestured a hand at him, and redirected the topic.  
  
“If you want to leave, I think you’ll want to clean yourself off first.” He looked down at himself and saw bandages, and tattered ugly pants, and bare feet.  _Right_. Drop could now add embarrassment to the piling mound of ugly unpleasant feelings crammed into his aching body.   
  
“…Where is the bathroom?” The woman patiently explained where he needed to go, and even offered to bring the spare clothes she had brought last night once he needed them. He awkwardly clutched his arms together, and slowly headed back into the building, with the woman following behind him. He hoped none of these other people were looking at him, though he knew they were.  
  
“Uh, thank you, ma’am.” He managed to stumble across those words once they’d reached the bathroom. The woman cracked a smile at him.  
  
“It’s no problem, Drop. And you can just call me Shei.” Oh right – Sheithayne - that had been her name. Drop stepped into the room and stuttered out a quieter “Thank you, Sheithayne, ma’am…” and closed the door.  
  
Sheithayne returned with Drop’s new clothes just shortly after he’d finished up cleaning himself of the residual grime and dirt left from the events of the previous night. Once Sheithayne left the room again, he dried off and tried the clothes on - clothes which also resembled the outfit Sheithayne wore. The shirt was too big, but that was most definitely the smallest problem he had been faced with in the past day. So, everything fit ok, he guessed. He looked down at himself, and his most prominent feeling was a quiet detachment from the situation. He couldn’t tell if he felt any better or not.   
  
He left the room and found the woman waiting patiently across the hall. She sent another smile in his direction as he walked up, which ignited a nauseous feeling in his stomach.   
  
“Thank you, again, Sheithayne? You’re too kind.” A sentiment often reserved for hyperbole, but Drop meant it quite literally. “I… really appreciate you helping me… but I think I’ve got to get out of here now.”  
  
Sheithayne dropped her smile, but the concern that replaced it was equally nauseating.  
  
“I wanted to ask you about that. Do you have anywhere to stay once you leave this place?”  
  
“No. I don’t think I want anywhere to stay? I…” he trailed off, and sighed. Sheithayne looked down in thought, then back to Drop.  
  
“If you want to leave, Drop, I can’t stop you. But I wanted to talk to you first, about how you’re doing, if I could have just a little more of your time?”  
  
He sighed again. He was tired.   
  
“I can talk.”   
  
Sheithayne lead Drop away to a different room. It was as sparse as the other rooms Drop had seen so far, except this one had a small bed in the far corner and a chest that he could only assume held whatever it was that Sheithayne owned. He looked around for a moment before the elf gestured for him to take a seat on the bed. She waited for Drop to get in a comfortable position, and then spoke.  
  
“So, how are you feeling?”  
  
“… I don’t think I can answer that question right now.”  
  
“Alright, then how is your body holding up? You seem like you’re recovering.”  
  
“It’s better, I think. Everything’s still where it should be. Thank you for that…”  
  
“It was no problem. It’s better to fight for your life if you can help it.”   
  
“If you say so.”  
  
Sheithayne’s expression became grave as she considered Drop’s response, and then she took a step closer toward him. He didn’t know what else to say, and so looked down at the stone floor.   
  
“Drop, this might be difficult for you to talk about, but I also wanted to ask you about what happened last night. You don’t have to if it’s too much, I’ll understand.”  
  
A lump caught in his throat. Why did she want to know about this? His best guess was that she could know what to do to stay alive after he left. Not the worst idea, he had to admit.   
  
“I… think I can talk about that a little bit.” He shifted his position on the bed, and clasped his hands together in anticipation for the worst. He’d never killed anyone by just talking, but there was a first time for anything.   
  
“Last night, you told me that you had caused that hurricane. How could you have done that?”  
  
“I’m sorry… This is just how things are for me. I’m around, and something terrible happens. At first, I couldn’t believe it either… there were the wolves first, that was bad. And you saw that hurricane, it came out of nowhere. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, so it must have been because of me.”  
  
“Could it have been magic?”  
  
“Maybe. I’ve never done any magic, I don’t know anyone who has. But,” He stared at his hands as he fidgeted with his thumbs, “I think I might be cursed.”  
  
“So, this wasn’t something in your control,” and Sheithayne looked at him with a pang of sadness in her face.  
  
“Yes.” Shame rose in his face. “But, but I tried my hardest not to let this happen, I swear! I thought trying to lead the wolves away might work, but they just got mad, and I had to run back, and they started to attack the others, and I didn’t know what else to do, and then-”   
  
“Try to breathe, Drop.”   
  
He took a few deep breaths, not exactly sure how this helped but knowing that it did anyways. It was hard to slow down, but he tried.  
  
“And… basically, whoever the wolves didn’t kill… the hurricane did. I couldn’t stop it, then I got caught in it, but I couldn’t tell you where it came from. That’s all I know about last night.”   
  
Sheithayne paused for a moment, and Drop wanted to disappear.   
  
“Has anything like this ever happened before?”  
  
“Ever since I was born.” His stomach hurt. “No one’s been able to live with me around. Do you know about that town… the one that sunk into the rising waters a few years ago?”  
  
Sheithayne nodded her head.  
  
“That was my home… and just… Too many other things have happened. I don’t know how, but I ruined it. I ruined all of their lives and I know that it’s my fault now.” He felt sick “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”   
  
He sat in silence expecting the woman to ask another question, but didn’t dare to look up at her. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking about, though he could guess he probably wouldn’t be staying in the monastery much longer even if he wanted to. Then finally-  
  
“Drop… I’m so sorry about what has happened to you. Whether this is a curse, or some other force at work, it must be a heavy burden. But I’m sure that those people have moved on to another plane, perhaps someplace better, if that’s of any comfort to you.” He really wasn’t sure how that made him feel.   
  
Drop sighed once more, and felt this conversation draining him of the energy he might’ve gotten from his dreamless sleep. The blue staff Sheithayne had set down beside her bed caught his eye, just like it had the night before. Sheithayne noticed and handed it to him, a gesture he was just as confused by as the first time she’d done that.   
  
“I just have one more question, have you ever heard of the Order of the Calm Waters before?”  
  
“No? Was I supposed to?”  
  
“Of course not, though I can explain it to you now,” Drop only then took her offering of the staff, and looked nervously between it and Sheithayne as she elaborated. “I am a monk, just like everyone else here, and where we are now is the monastery for the Order of the Calm Waters. Here, we believe that death is simply an inevitability. It’s nothing more, and nothing less. It’s our hope here that we learn to accept that idea, and be at peace with that.”  
  
“Ok… why are you telling me this?”   
  
“I’m telling you this because I still want to offer you the option to stay here with us, if you want to.”  
  
Drop body tensed up. How could she want him to stick around in this place after hearing about everything he’d done? She couldn’t possibly think this was a good idea.   
  
“I… I can’t do that. If I stay, everyone here would…”  
  
“Drop, everyone here is ready to accept death if it is their time. Now, that doesn’t mean we simply wait around to die. But if anyone here dies it wouldn’t matter what caused it, because it is what had to happen. Whether or not you stay here would not make you to blame for that.” Sheithayne looked strangely sad, “I know that death is frightening, and I can’t offer you a solution to the problem you’re facing. But we can all live our lives with a little more peace if we accept what fate has in store for us. Perhaps the Order could help you to find that peace. If you want to stay, we’ll welcome you with no hesitation. But if you don’t, I’ll send you off without any more questions, I promise.”   
  
Drop took deep breaths, and stared intensely at the bright blue staff that glittered even more vibrantly as the morning sun shone into the room. This wasn’t a good idea. He sat there, silent, for minutes upon minutes, just slowly mulling over her words.  _This wasn’t a good idea._  Did he even have any other choices...?   
  
He slowly looked back up at Sheithayne.  
  
“I, uh, I don’t want to hurt anybody… but think that I do want to stay here. Thank you. Again.”  
  
Drop saw Sheithayne smile at him, and the feeling in his chest was something he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t comprehend the scope of how he would deal with living here, but he couldn’t think of any other options. This would have to lead him somewhere. Hopefully somewhere good, although he highly doubted that. His train of thought derailed as the both of them suddenly noticed an angry gurgling noise.   
  
Sheithayne stifled a laugh, “It looks like with all the commotion, I forgot to get you anything to eat.” Drop coughed a noise that could be mistaken for a laugh. She gestured for the two to stand up together, and led him to where the monks kept their food.


	3. The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shei and Drop share an average morning at the monastery.

The sunset peaked through the windows of Sheithayne’s room as she stretched her arms. Another day in the monastery had come and gone, and she was ready to get some rest. Just as she sat down, however, she caught the sound of footsteps clamoring towards her. She remained seated as the figure behind her came to a stop, with a shaky panting voice that she could recognize from anywhere.  
  
“Good evening, Drop.”  
  
“…Evening, Master Sheithayne.” Sheithayne sighed, knowing by now she would probably never convince Drop that he could just call her Shei if he wanted to. As she turned to face him, it was clear that this wasn’t something to bring up at the moment.  
  
It had barely been a year since she found a particularly unfortunate young boy, and behind her she saw that boy standing there, slightly older now. Although he had not grown any taller, his physique had improved admirably over the short amount of time, making his dedication to the Order’s training regimen readily apparent. His hair had also been poorly trimmed by his own hands, and tied in a short ponytail, to keep things as orderly as he could. In spite of these physical changes, his face still gave away his excessive messy youth. and fear. His eyes were red from tears he must have been shedding just earlier that evening.   
  
“Master Sheithayne, uh, I… you see, uh, with Master Althin, t-there was a… a shoe? And, he was… I mean…” Drop stopped himself, took a deep breath, and leaned against the doorway. “They’re going to be burying him tomorrow.”   
  
Sheithayne’s breath caught in her chest for just a moment, but she maintained composure, as always.   
  
“Thank you for letting me know. Come sit next to me.”  
  
Sheithayne watched as he pulled himself across the room, clutching his arms and looking at his own feet. As he sat down, she could see him trying to will his body out of existence. They shared a mutual silence for several minutes, both knowing that Drop wasn’t actually in the mood to talk about anything at all. Within the silence Shei left briefly, and returned with her quarterstaff. As she lent it to Drop she spoke quietly, with all the authority she had as his master.   
  
“Drop. Do you remember what I’ve been teaching you?”  
  
“… About… how this isn’t my fault?”  
  
“Yes. It was just Master Althin’s time, and the moment has passed now. All we can do is move forward. Do you understand?”  
  
Drop nodded his head weakly, and they both remained seated and silent for a time neither of them would bother to keep track of. Drop lost himself looking into the deep blue quarterstaff as he clutched it tightly. It was of great help to counteract his mental hurdles concerning meditation; he always tried far too hard to clear his mind, which was of little help to him in times like these.   
  
Sheithayne focused on nothing but breathing in, and out.  
  
She opened her eyes to see that the night had come. The darkness was calm. She looked around, and saw the familiar sight of Drop asleep on the cold stone floor, the quarterstaff clutched in his hands as though he held on to it for dear life. He rarely moved in his sleep, although that night he was shivering as the open windows carried in the cold air. Sheithayne saw to it that he slept with the blanket she always kept stowed away in this room, just in case.   
  
She left him alone as she headed out to begin her extremely-early-morning routine. Stretches, some cleaning, the usual. By the time she had gotten breakfast from the kitchen, she could see very first signs of the sun peaking ever so slightly over the monastery, and the quiet commotion of other monks as they began their days. Several of these monks were headed to a field behind the dormitory; the graveyard. Shei decided to check back with Drop.  
  
She knew that when she’d walk through the door to her room, he would be stirring awake. She sat down beside him as he clumsily pushed himself off of the floor. He squinted in the light that hit his face, and it bore an intense frown he would often wear in the mornings.   
  
“Is there a way to turn the sun off?”  
  
“None that I can think of, Drop.”  
  
He sighed, and closed his eyes as he began his deep breathing exercises to prepare for the day. Sheithayne waited patiently, knowing they both had a long day ahead of them. 


	4. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief visit to the rapidly expanding monastery graveyard.

The funeral was nothing special. At the monastery it was always a simple burial, followed with respectful silence and perhaps one or two people would speak up about the person they’d known. Drop never spoke as he looked from the fresh grave to Sheithayne, who held her head down in respect, and then to the gathering of the other monks who attended the event. It was still early in the morning, and the sunrise lit their backs as they somberly stood around the departed master’s resting place.  
  
He knew that at least a few of the monks were sneaking cautious glances at him. It was understandable, he had a reputation at this point. But whenever they would meet his gaze he turned his head back down, with an ache in his stomach that never quieted down until the event was over. Even then, it never went away completely.   
  
Finally, the monks began to disperse to return to their daily routines, and Drop felt as close to relieved as he could be. He never wanted to attend funerals, they all melted into each other and he was left feeling just the same before and after. Guilty. At least this one was over.


	5. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drop tries to learn something new.

Sheithayne looked over the edge of the monastery wall, then over her shoulder to where Drop stood behind her. The weather had been unusually fair in the mountains, ignoring the constant smoke, and so conditions had seemed right for breaking from the usual training regimen. Now however, she had her doubts.  
  
“Are you certain you’re ready for practice today? I should remind you that the slow fall is beyond the techniques I’ve been teaching you recently.”   
  
“Well… we are already up here. So I guess I’m as ready as I can be.” He swung his arms rhythmically as he remained stuck in place.   
  
“…Alright then. Walk over here, you need to see this first hand.”  
  
Shei watched Drop as he shuffled over to the edge and tilted his body cautiously forward to look down toward the ground. She had made sure to find the lowest rooftop available to them, it was fairly difficult for a person to die from his height. Getting terribly injured was significantly easier, but Shei had experience on her side to keep things contained.   
  
She nodded toward Drop, and signaled for him to pay attention before leaping off the edge. The speed of her decent slowed exponentially, until she gently planted her feet on the ground with no signs of impact or falling at all.   
  
Shei cupped her hands around her mouth as she turned up towards Drop –  
  
“Did you get that?”  
  
“Uh, Yeah!”  
  
“Now, do you feel you can copy that, Goodwood?”  
  
He shuffled an extra half inch forward on the roof, nervously pulling at his robe as he delayed his response.  
  
“We can try this another time if you can’t, like I said –“  
  
“No, I – I think I can try this!”   
  
Another second of hesitation. Then, he stuck one foot out, and pitched forward.  
  
Shei rushed toward the spot Drop crashed into – the ground was only soil, but it was firm enough that she had been able to hear an unpleasant cracking noise when he crashed. As she knelt forward, Drop lifted his face off the ground and spat out the dirt stuck in his teeth. He looked up to his mentor -  
  
"I- I -"  
  
"No need to talk right now Drop, I need to check if you broke anything"  
  
Drop forced his mouth shut as Shei examined his body, and quickly discovered his leg was bent at a discomforting angle.   
  
"Okay, grab my shoulder -" Drop followed her instruction promptly and leaned into her support as she brought him to a vertical position and pushed them both forward to find the nearest surface he could lie on. 


	6. The Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheithayne tries to teach an old lesson.

There was nothing for Drop to look at except his broken leg lifted on a tattered book, and his surrounding room. There was nothing for Drop to listen to except for the muffled but all too intelligible conversation taking place in the hallway;  
  
" - and it's no coincidence that he was in the room when Lazgar died -"  
  
"That room was the dining hall and everyone was eating lunch, of course he was there!"   
  
"So you don't deny it!"  
  
"You know neither of us has the time for this, I've told you and everyone else a thousand times now that Drop isn't any threat to us! He's just a scared kid, like so many others here! Now excuse me, I'm not going to entertain this conversation anymore."  
  
"But Sheith-"  
  
"No."   
  
One set of footsteps stomped into the distance, and another set brought Sheithayne to Drop's doorway. She smiled, he looked away from her shamefully.  
  
A silence punctuated the air as Sheithayne stepped into the room with a drinking glass in one and her free hand reaching for a small bag hanging on her waste. She pulled out a small handful of herbs that were grown at the monastery, then handed everything she had toward Drop.   
  
"Drink, and eat these - not all at once - and it will help with your leg."  
  
Drop followed her instructions, quietly. Although he never looked at Sheithayne as he did this, he could sense that she was staring at him with that expression she always made when he had messed up; it was never angry, or disappointed, but instead something else that he couldn't describe, which confused him immensely. It had actually grown to be comforting, which baffled him further, but he never commented on these things. There were a lot of things he never talked about.   
  
"You'll be alright. If you're feeling bad about the slow fall practice, I've never seen anyone get that right on their first try. "  
  
 _mhm_  
  
"And you don't have to feel bad about missing physical training either, there's plenty of books for you to read until you've recovered."  
  
 _mhm_  
  
"...Is there something else that's bothering you?"   
  
"I'm... sorry."  
  
"What are you sorry for, Goodwood?"  
  
"I'm sorry you have to deal with me."  
  
His cheeks flushed with heat as his eyes pricked with the threat of tears. His head was still turned away from Sheithayne, but he caught the sight of her kneeling by his bed, and anticipated the worst.  
  
"It's alright, Drop, it really is. You must have over heard the conversation I was having earlier, is that right?"   
  
He nodded his head. Sheithayne sighed.   
  
"If I could tell some of the people here a million times over that you aren't doing anything wrong maybe then they might actually believe it."  
  
"I must be doing something wrong though, why else would so many people keep dying like this?"  
  
"We both know that's not your fault."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I... I don't know how to explain it, but I know it's true. I understand it must be very difficult for you to believe that," _more than she could imagine_  ",but you have to stick by that. Keep that bit of knowledge close to you."  
  
Drop hated the way his eyes burned when he couldn't hold his tears back anymore. He was getting better at restraining himself, but like everything else in life, he wasn't very good at it either.   
  
"I-I'll try."  
  
"You always do."   
  
He heard Sheithayne as she stood up and began walking away, and as she stopped to stand in the door frame once again.  
  
"I'll check back with you later at dinner time, do you need anything before I go?"   
  
"No."  
  
"Alright, I'll see you later then... Remember that you're never a burden, that's why you're here with us. Goodbye."  
  
"Bye." 

  
After just a few minutes, Drop could wipe his face and see the same broken leg and the same bedroom with the clarity he had before. It still wasn't much to look at. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the last chapter in this little series of Drop and Sheithayne fics......at least for now. If I ever get the inspiration to write anything more with these two you will know because I love them very much.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever used Ao3, so I hope the formatting works properly! And I hope you enjoy this fanfic for a d&d actual play podcast called Dice Funk, bc that show is very fun and these are my favorite characters right here...


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